


Last Resort

by pkg4mumtown



Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Belts, Blood choke, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I have no idea what happened, Knifeplay, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-04-08 00:50:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19096369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pkg4mumtown/pseuds/pkg4mumtown
Summary: The reader is out to fill a contract, but someone gets in her way.From an anon request on Tumblr: "Literally anything that has to do with that GODDAM BELT SCENE in John Wick 3. I’m a sucker for rescue scenarios and some good old Wick domination"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The belt scene killed me! I saw the movie three times and made the same fucking noise each time. I tried to incorporate all three things into one, so we’ll see if I succeeded.

I took a deep breath as I approached the hideout of some Russian asshole with a sizable contract out on him. Due to the price, I set out to complete the contract as quickly as possible; staying up late last night to memorize the layout of the hideout. I checked the chamber of my pistol, making sure I was set to go before listening against the door for any signs that someone got here first. All was silent, so I quickly picked the lock and peered in.

I favored a longer distance from my opponents, so a silenced pistol was a must as I stalked through the hallways. The area was heavily guarded as he knew he had a contract out on him, but his guards didn’t expect an attack so soon, so I was able to take them off guard. I made my way through cleanly, eventually coming to a door that I knew was one room away from the target's office.

I had confidence oozing out of my pores at the ease in which this mission had been so far. I pushed the door open slightly with my shoulder and checked the areas that opened to me as I did. The door was barely half way open when a hand clamped down on the muzzle of my gun. In my over confidence, I made a rookie mistake and had stuck my pistol too far out in front of me which left me open to attack.

I cursed as I tried to wrench my weapon back, opting to push hard against the door to throw the assailant off balance. His grip on the gun remained, however, and the weapon was ripped from my hands as he stumbled back. I rushed in, tackling him before he could recover his bearings. I took note of the sheer amount of men in the room, hesitating slightly as I realized they heavily guarded the last room as a fail-safe. No wonder the rest of the place had been so easy. I jumped on the first assailant, grabbing my knife from my belt and stabbing him in the chest and head quickly. A group of men rushed me, and I held them off as long as I could, until one of them had managed to get behind me. I felt his arm wrap around my neck, squeezing tightly while a couple others grabbed my arms and legs. I grimaced as I felt plastic zip ties clamp around my legs and dig into my skin. The arm around my neck released me as my arms were twisted roughly behind my back and zip tied. I threw my head back, cracking the man behind me in the nose but earning me a punch to the stomach. I lost my balance, falling on my wrists and ass as I tried to catch my breath.

I looked up, seeing one with a bloody nose, “Sorry, did that hurt?” I snarked at him.

He kicked me in the ribs and sneered back in a heavily accented voice, “You’re lucky boss wants you alive. Something tells me he’s going to have a great time with you, bitch.”

I let out a pained groan through clenched teeth as I felt a hand wrap itself into my hair and drag me across the floor. I was lifted by my armpits into a metal chair. The zip ties on my feet were cut, but my legs were grabbed too quickly to retaliate and soon each leg was tied to a chair. I tried to tilt the chair but found that it was bolted into the floor rather securely. The zip ties on my wrists were cut and my arms were wrapped around the back of the chair and re-bound. One of the men spoke into a radio, briefly exchanging words with the other voice, who I assumed to be my target.

“He’ll be with us in a minute,” the man chuckled.

One minute turned into five as I shifted impatiently in my chair. A panicked voice came over the radio but was so filled with static that it was unintelligible to my ears. My head shot up and saw the wide eyes of the rest of the men in the room. The majority of them ran out of the room with guns drawn, leaving six men in the room with me, in front of me, but facing away as they trained their guns on the door. I kept my eyes on them as I twisted my wrist inward to attempt to grab a knife that I kept inside of my jacket sleeve, which they neglected to check. I was able to grab it with my fingertips, before letting it slide into my palm, so I could cut my restraints. It was small but would serve its purpose. I could hear the faint sound of gunshots and screams as I worked, watching the men in front of me grow more and more nervous as the sounds grew closer. I briefly wondered who else was determined to fill the contract and who had the reputation to rattle these men. One of the men turned and faced me, backhanding me in anger. I clenched my fists tightly to keep from fighting back, so he didn’t know I had cut my restraints.

“You think your little guard dog can save you?” he spat.

“I didn’t bring anyone with me, asshole,” I snarled back, spitting in his direction. He hit me again, the skin of my lip broke and bled as a result. “Fuck you.”

He grabbed a piece of cloth from his pocket, grasping either side of my face and digging his fingers into the hollows of my cheeks until I opened my mouth. As he was finishing tying the cloth around my mouth, the door burst open and gunshots rang out. Four of the men dropped dead nearly instantly, letting me see a figure using a dead assailant as a human shield. The assassin fired another shot but missed. He tried to fire again but noticed his gun was now empty. The empty pistol was flung at the face of one of the last two men. He dropped the human shield, revealing the assassin as none other than John Wick. I snorted to myself, typical John to go throwing guns at people. He charged the disoriented man and tackled him to the ground. I took my chance as both men were focused on John and his knife.

I quickly bent over, cutting the two zip ties around my ankles, removing the makeshift gag, and stalked away to find my gun. I quickly located it and sped over to the door to the target’s office. I stopped when I felt a hard, metal object hit my upper back and clatter across the floor. I turned around, rolling my eyes as I spotted the discarded gun and John's form approaching me in a few quick strides.

“You don’t think I’m gonna let you take the kill, do you?” he questioned, his hands coming to his hips.

 “Why do you always last resort to throwing guns at people, John?” I huffed reaching behind me and rubbing the area the gun hit. I pointed my gun at him after, daring him to do something.

“That’s not my last resort,” he smirked. His hands dropped to his belt, quickly unfastening it and sliding it from the loops with a quick snap. He made a show of folding it in half and snapping the two halves together, “I’ll fight you for it.” He released one end, letting the belt extend to the floor while he tilted his head and challenged me to shoot first.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted one of the target’s men enter the room with his gun drawn. I snapped my aim to the man’s head, over John’s shoulder, and fired once. The man slumped to the floor in a heap with a hole in his head. I pointed my gun back at John, who wore a stupid grin on his face. I glanced at my gun, seeing the slide locked in the rear of the gun to tell me it was empty. I took a page out of John’s book, chucking the gun at his head. He side stepped the projectile easily, chuckling at my attempt.

I threw my hands up in a shrug, “Zero out of ten, would not try that again.”

I lunged at him, narrowly missing being slapped by the belt as I ducked under it. I stepped on his bent leg, using it to climb his body and get my legs around his neck. I swung my body through the take down, sending him to the floor.

“I was here first, John. I did half of the work already,” I defended verbally, dodging another swing of his belt as he got up.

He folded the belt in half, threading his free hand through the loop and twisting it into a defense weapon. I moved to strike him, but he deflected me, allowing his arm to slide the belt along the back of my neck and around until he was choking me.

“Yet, the only reason you’re up is because I distracted them for you,” he almost growled in my ear.

I had managed to squeeze my fingers in between the belt and my neck before he tightened too much. He was close behind me since the belt was short while folded in half, so I threw my head back into his chin and elbowed him in the ribs repeatedly until his grip on the belt loosened. I grabbed one of his arms and flipped him over my shoulder, using my hips as leverage since he was so much bigger than I was. He landed on his back but immediately flipped over so he could push himself up. I was faster, driving a knee in his back to keep him down.

“We’ll go halfsies,” I requested, pulling his head up by his hair.

“Not a chance, Y/N,” he gritted out.

The office door opening caught both of our attentions, as the target stuck half his body out of the door. The hand not holding onto John’s hair, reached under my pant leg and grabbed a knife. I flung it at the target, the knife embedding itself into his throat.

My knee didn’t hold John for very long as he still managed to stand up with me attached to him. Me stealing the kill didn’t help the situation either. John was pissed. He basically threw me off his back, sending me sliding into the, now open, office. I shoved the legs of the dead target out of the way as I scrambled to get up before John could get to me. My movements were interrupted by the sting of the belt coming down across the top of my ass. While it hurt, I tried to bite back a moan but failed. The room got quiet except for our labored breathing. I glanced back at John, who was equally as shocked as I was.

“You enjoyed that?” he questioned with a tilt of his head.

“Go fuck yourself,” I muttered, standing up and searching for a weapon on the desk in the office.

I wasn’t fast enough, soon finding myself trapped between the desk and John's chest. His hand found the back of my neck, forcing my face down into the desk. I felt the sting of the belt on one side of my ass, causing me to flinch away but moan still.

“You really do enjoy it,” he said in awe, almost to himself, as if he didn’t believe what he heard the first time.

“Fuck you,” I huffed, trying to get out of his grasp. I was only met with another strike of the belt.

“I mean, if you want to,” he chuckled, making a joke out of my cursing.

“I haven’t had decent dick in a while, so _excuse me_ ,” I mumbled against the desk.

“Ask and you shall receive,” he rumbled lowly behind me.

A weak plea escaped my lips at his words, “Please.”

I heard the belt clank next to my face on the desk. His free hand reached around and found the button of my pants, flicking it open. He dragged the zipper down and yanked down the garments until his eyes could see my bare ass. Fuck, was this really happening? His dress shoe-clad foot stepped in my pants, dragging them down my legs further. His hand left my neck briefly to work on his pants. I raised my upper body slightly, only to have my head forced back down to the desk.

“Stay,” he growled.

This time, when he removed his hand, I stayed put. I released a shaky breath that I didn’t know I was holding, the anticipation killing me slowly. It wasn’t long before I felt his length slide along my entrance. My needy whimper was satisfied seconds later as he filled me roughly. I gasped at the intrusion while my fingers scrambled for anything to hold on to. His hips met mine hard and fast, the whole ordeal almost coming to an end too quickly for his liking. His entire body stilled, forcing some self discipline into the situation. My imminent high slowly started to disappear farther from my grasp the longer he waited.

“Don’t toy with me, John, I swear I’ll—”

I didn’t get to finish my frustrated threat because he was grabbing the belt and forcing it between my open lips. I bit down on it almost too willingly, the ends being held behind my head by a single, large hand.

“I think I liked it better when you couldn’t speak,” he whispered harshly, tugging on the belt slightly. I mumbled angrily around the belt at his words. His hand came down on the reddened side of my ass, another moan escaping my lips. “You done?”

I let out a frustrated growl but nodded anyway. I moaned pitifully in the back of my throat as his hips resumed a slightly slower pace. In a hideout full of dead bodies, the only sounds were our sighs, grunts, and skin meeting repeatedly. It was still all over too quickly, but we couldn’t chance anybody else coming in and catch us off guard with our pants literally around our ankles. I could imagine it, _The Baba Yaga finally killed because he stopped for a quickie._

I caught my breath while laying on the desk, moving my aching jaw as John’s grip on the belt finally loosened. As quickly as he had entered me, he pulled away. I heaved myself up, not bothering to clean up until I got back to The Continental. I turned around, facing him and seeing a few beads of sweat disappear into his beard.

“You owe me a new belt,” he stated, holding up the strip of leather with teeth marks along the middle of it.

“That’s dramatic,” I rolled my eyes, running my fingers along the marks that looked like they would vanish in a day. “I’ll wire you half, ‘kay?” I strode over to the target's body, snapping a picture and sending it as proof of completion.

“You already paid me, _but_ if you’re feeling generous…” he trailed off, securing the belt back around his pants. “Need a ride?”

“Your car or you?” I asked, following him out of a back entrance.

His laughter echoed off the corridor walls, “Both.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and John have come up with an agreement since the belt incident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to fulfill another request but I got carried away and that didn’t happen, so that request will be next. There might be a 3rd part to this…

After the belt incident we made a bit of deal. John and I had _very thoroughly_ enjoyed the competitiveness of that contract, so we made it into a game for the both of us. For big contracts like that one, we’d go in together and see who could take down the target first. The satisfaction of winning wasn’t enough, so we developed a prize of sorts. Money was too easy and neither of us cared _that_ much about it, so we split it evenly regardless of who won. There was no denying the attraction between us after that night, coupled with John’s admiration at me actually trying to fight him. Yea, the prize was _far_ more coveted than money. The winner of the contract dictated the sexual activities of the rest of the night, making the competition that much better. Much like the night of the belt incident, John was demanding, dominant, and made it very clear that he wouldn’t take any shit from me on his days. He, in a sense, trained me on how to act for him because he wouldn’t put up with the snarky attitude from that first night. Who was I to deny him exactly what he earned?

I stepped out of the shower, snatching my towel off the hook and wrapping myself in the soft material. My work phone buzzed on the counter, alerting me to a new contract. I grabbed it with damp fingers, sliding the screen up and seeing a contract flash across the screen.

_“Giovanni Bastone. Closed contract, $2 Million.”_

_“Consider it done,”_ I responded.

I exited the bathroom, snatching my other phone off the nightstand and navigating to John’s contact. The phone rang twice before a gruff voice answered.

“Y/N?”

“We have a contract Mr. Wick,” I purred.

“Wonderful, who?” if it was possible, his voice lowered at the promise of what the contract entailed.

“Giovanni Bastone,” I answered, rereading the message on my work phone.

“Lobby, one hour,” he grunted, presumably getting up.

“What are you wearing, John?” I wondered aloud for a couple different reasons.

“How many times do I have to tell you? We don’t have to match, Y/N,” he sighed.

“It’s for the _aesthetic_ , John. Humor me,” I pleaded.

“Black suit, white shirt,” he revealed, probably shaking his head at the phone.

“You’re so fucking boring,” I teased, padding softly back into the bathroom and dropping my towel on the floor.

“What were you expecting?” he asked sarcastically.

I pulled the phone away from my ear, snapping a photo of myself in the mirror and sending it to him, “Probably something closer to this.” His chuckle sounded through the phone as he received the message. “We have time to kill,” I murmured a proposition to him.

“I think you can exercise some patience until later,” his voice rumbled over the phone. “And don’t even think about touching yourself before we leave. I’ll know.”

“It’s cute that you think you have that power over me when this contract hasn’t even started, yet, John,” I cooed back at him.

“Come say that to my face and you’ll think differently,” he promised, his voice turning in to a growl. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

“Yes, sir,” I submitted to his tone almost too quickly. All the times he ingrained it into my head forcing the phrase out of my mouth like a mantra.

His throat released one last husky chuckle before he ended the call. I took my time choosing my undergarments, settling on a navy-blue lace set that was sure to be uncomfortable on the mission but John would appreciate it later. I shrugged on a neatly pressed, white button down and black suit combo sans tie. I slid my shoes on, loaded up my belt, grabbed my rifle bag and headed out. I messed with the suit as I rode the elevator down, popping the top button undone so I could breathe easier. When I got to the lobby, John was already waiting for me on one of the sofas.

He stood as he saw me, his eyes raking up and down my form as if he could see through them. He huffed out a laugh, “We look like we’re about to go knocking on doors to go preach to people.”

“At gunpoint?” I laughed.

“Absolutely.”

The car ride to the mansion was comfortable, not really talking about the mission itself so much as talking about each other.

“I think you’re gonna take this one,” John predicted.

“I’m pretty sure my luck has run out, I won the last two,” I countered.

“Lucky number three?”

“We’ll see,” I muttered, fiddling with the buttons of my shirt. “Should I undo two buttons or three?”

“One was fine,” he answered gruffly.

“Yea, I like three, too,” I taunted him, flicking open the next two buttons and adjusting the collar.

His head turned toward me for a second, watching my actions with a heated gaze and tightening his grip on the steering wheel.

We pulled up a little down the road, so we wouldn’t be noticed by security inside. I slung my rifle over my shoulders, loading in a magazine and double checking my ammo, hip holster, and knife quickly. I nodded to John, who finished readying himself, the both of us stalking in the shadows until we approached the house. We pressed ourselves against the wall to create as small of a profile as possible, moving until we were around the corner from the front door. If I was by myself, there was no way in hell I’d knock on the door like this, but I had John, so we might as well have a bit of fun with it. We both let our rifles hang, mine getting slung around to my back. John pulled his pistol and nodded at me to go ahead. I pressed a finger into the doorbell, leaning my shoulder against the doorframe as I heard shuffling behind the door. The door cracked open slowly, a snarling face appearing behind it.

“Hey, there, I’m a bit lost—,” I started, seeing the guard jump in surprise as John turned the corner behind me with his handgun drawn. Before the guard could react, John pulled the trigger and I crouched slightly while bringing my rifle back into my hands.

John switched back to his rifle while I covered him, the two of us clearing the front room as efficiently as possible. I swept around a tight corner, tilting the rifle to get a better angle as I heard movement on the other side. John swept behind me, coming around the corner faster than me and shooting the guard as soon as I got him in my sights. John flashed an arrogant smile at me, shrugging and moving to the next area.

“You’re a dick,” I murmured.

“Should have been faster,” he challenged.

We made our way into another open room, stealing each other’s kills left and right until we came up to two parallel hallways that emptied out to where Bastone should be. I pressed myself against the wall next to one opening, shielding myself from the gunfire and switching magazines. John finished covering me and pushed himself against the wall in the space next to me, also changing his magazine.

“See you on the other side?” he asked, holding his rifle upright and turning his head toward me with his back pressed up against the wall.

“Don’t start without me,” I teased, stepping closer to him, keeping an eye on the opening of one hallway while he did the same for the other.

“Don’t take forever, then,” he raised an eyebrow, dipping his head and taking control of my mouth roughly. His tongue slid along mine, promising so much more for later through a simple action. His teeth held on to my bottom lip as I pulled back, letting the skin release slowly from between his teeth. “You take right, I’ll take left,” he ordered, leaving no room for discussion.

We pressed our backs against the wall again, taking a deep breath and turning into our respective hallways. I emptied my magazine in to as many guards as possible, before having to engage in hand to hand. As the last round hit its mark, I grabbed the stock of the rifle and introduced the butt of the gun to the nearest guard’s face repeatedly, but not before he caught my arm with a swipe of his knife. I dropped the rifle, allowing it to hang from my body, drawing my pistol and firing at the next assailant running at me. I picked up a pistol from a dead guard, inspecting it and slipping a few of his magazines into my pocket. I stalked down the hallway cautiously, both pistols pointed out in front of me. I turned the corner, my aim snapping to movement but halting as I recognized the movement as John. I relaxed slightly, standing on the other side of the door from him; the door that should lead to Giovanni.

“Come here often?” I cracked the joke while catching my breath.

“First time,” he responded, checking the magazine of his pistol and only seeing two rounds left. I handed him the one I looted, fishing the spare magazines out of my pocket.

“Me, too. You can pay me back for that later,” I nodded toward the gun.

John just shook his head, rolled his eyes slightly, and nodded toward the door. He turned the knob with one hand, the other holding the pistol close to his chest as he pushed the door open. I could almost see his brain analyze what he saw before rushing in the room with me hot on his heels. I turned, going a different direction and dropping the guards nearest to me with a few well-placed shots. I looked over at John, who was engaged in a fist fight with two guards.

“Go get Bastone! I’ve got this!” he shouted as he held one of the guards in an arm bar.

I pushed forward, seeing Bastone emerge from behind his desk and fire a few rounds at me. I ducked behind a pillar, returning fire and cursing when my gun clicked, telling me it was empty. I dropped my pistol and took the rifle off by its sling, letting both clatter to the floor. I pulled my knife, waiting until I heard Bastone’s heavy footsteps approach the pillar. I charged him, plunging my knife into his stomach but his finger pulled the trigger as I did. I staggered back, the bullets not penetrating the lining of my jacket but hurting, nonetheless. I shoved him back with a foot to the chest, causing him to lose balance and his gun to skid across the floor. He grabbed the knife from his abdomen, yanking it out only for me to straddle his chest and grab his arm with two hands to push it toward his neck. He wrenched his other arm out from under my knee, using it to push back against my downward force. My arms shook with the effort necessary to do this. He wasn’t a small man by any means. I leaned my torso into the collection of hands, raising my body slightly so I could press my knee into his knife wound. He screamed in pain, allowing me to get the knife closer to his throat but still not close enough.

I looked around for John, my eyes landing on him not two feet from us, just watching the interaction. He looked at me expectantly to finish the job. All it would take was one or two forceful shoves. While I _could_ finish it, I surreptitiously wanted John to win this contract because of how much I enjoyed his dominating persona. He tilted his head at me, approaching me and squatting down just above Bastone’s head. He drew his knife, holding the handle between his thumb and forefinger, allowing the tip of the knife to dance on Bastone’s forehead.

“You’re really gonna let me take this from you?” his voice rumbled over the sound of Bastone’s grunts.

I made my arms shake more violently to mimic more effort, locking eyes with his mocking gaze, “Just fucking finish it, John,” I hissed through my teeth.

He smirked, his darkened eyes dropping to Bastone’s and then holding my gaze once more. His free hand raised up with his palm down, the other hand gripping the knife in his palm with the tip still pressed against Bastone’s forehead. John’s hand swiftly came down, slamming the knife into his forehead. Bastone’s body went limp, my body nearly falling on top of him as the resistance dissipated. I took a minute to catch my breath before standing up and meeting John’s raised eyebrow.

“You had him,” John chastised.

“I’m lucky I got as far as I did. Without that stab to the stomach, he could have easily benched me off his chest,” I rolled my eyes, but knowing I was caught.

“You _had_ him,” he pressed, stepping close to me and pressing his body against mine. “If you wanted me in charge today, all you had to do was ask. You didn’t have to lose on purpose.” I gulped as his mouth hovered centimeters from mine, his fingers digging into my hips. “But, rules are rules,” he murmured, allowing a devilish smile to pull at his lips.

We picked up our discarded weapons and sent proof of completion before making the trek to the car. The adrenaline started to wear off, the stinging in my arm becoming more prominent. I peeked at the cut, but determined it stung more than the scratch warranted.

“You good?”

“Yea, just a scratch,” I glanced over at John, spying the cuts and bruising forming on his face. “You, on the other hand, can’t seem to leave a fight without getting your face fucked.”

“This isn’t really the kind I’d prefer,” he grumbled, grimacing slightly as he pressed too roughly on a bruising area of his face.

We entered the hotel, being immediately greeted by Charon at the front desk, “Mr. Wick, Ms. Y/L/N. Shall I send the doctor to your rooms?”

“No, we’re fine, thanks,” John nodded, leading me toward the elevator.

We entered his room, immediately discarding our bags on the coffee table. Our jackets joined the pile and our shoes were kicked off. John undid his tie, sliding it smoothly under the collar of his shirt and abandoning it on the carpeted floor. He unbuttoned his shirt but left it on, sitting and making himself comfortable on the couch. I snagged the first aid kit from the bathroom before coming back to him. I went to straddle his lap with the box in hand, but he stopped me and took the box from me.

“Strip first,” he ordered, setting the box down on the cushion next to him and relaxing into the couch as he watched.

I unbuttoned the rest of my shirt, shrugging it off and pushing my chest out as I did. John’s hands framed the growing tent in his pants, exercising an inhuman amount of discipline as he kept his hands in place. The shirt fluttered to the floor, my tactical belt joining the pile of weapons, and my trousers pooling at my feet. I stepped out of the pile, this time, John allowing me to straddle his lap. His calloused hands worked their way up my thighs, sliding around under my lace panties and clutching the flesh he found. I leaned over and opened the first aid kit, tearing open a cleansing wipe packet and cleaning the couple cuts he had on his face. I opened another, bringing it to my arm and grimacing as it stung. The grimace morphed into a shudder as John’s teeth scraped along my clavicle before moving higher and sinking his teeth into the muscle of my upper trapezius. I tossed both wipes to the side, grabbing hold of his hair and pulling his head away from my neck. He let out a displeased growl, smashing his lips against mine and asserting himself.

“Watch yourself,” he warned, sitting up straight. He brought a hand to my face, letting his thumb brush over my lips, “You’re going to let me come down your throat?”

I traced the pad of his thumb with my tongue, taking the tip of it in my mouth and releasing it before speaking, “Yes, sir.” I ground my hips down against his, my actions being rewarded with a soft groan escaping his lips.

“You missed this didn’t you? Me telling you what to do,” he asked against the skin of my jaw, letting his hand drop from my face to my neck to keep me from moving. He didn’t squeeze his hand, but simply let his hand engulf the front of it. He didn’t wait for an answer before continuing. “That’s why you let me win,” he nipped at my jaw, a whimper sounding in the back of my throat. He pulled his head back, staring firmly into my eyes, “Get to work.”

I gingerly stood from his lap and knelt on the floor in front of the couch. I unclipped his tactical belt, letting it fall against the couch. His dress belt was next, followed by my fingers eagerly flicking open the button of his trousers. I slid my hands into his boxers and around his hips, so I could push the fabric down. He raised his hips slightly, allowing me to pull them down his legs. I took my time while removing each leg from the pants to torture him. He fidgeted impatiently, his hands twitching with the need to wrap his hand around his dick as I pushed his legs open and situated myself between them. I purposely steered clear of the swollen appendage, teasing the inside of his thighs and where they met his hips with my tongue and teeth. He hissed and let out a low growl, clearly frustrated with me. I peeked up at him, his dark eyes staring straight into my soul. I felt his hand work its way into my hair, tugging my head up until my mouth was hovering over his cock. I licked my lips as I watched his free hand guide himself toward my lips, just a breath’s away from making contact. I parted my lips, letting the tip of my tongue make contact with the head before flattening my tongue against him. His mouth hung open as I replaced the hand holding his cock with mine and finally wrapped my lips around the head. He placed pressure on my head, telling me to take him deeper without forcing me. I relaxed my throat, letting me take him nearly all the way without feeling the need to gag. I moaned around him, relishing the way his mind shut off with every stroke as I felt his fingers slack and retighten in my hair. John’s legs tensed and shook under my arms as he fought to keep his hips in place, not wanting to force himself down my throat. His legs spread wider as ragged moans fell from his open lips, telling me he was close.

“Take it all,” he commanded through a gasp.

Soon he groaned out his release, his hips pushing up slightly while his hand slipped from my hair and gripped the back of my neck. I swallowed every last drop that met my tongue, continuing to lap at him until he pulled my head away from his oversensitive skin with a whimper.

“C’mere,” he mumbled, inviting me into his lap. He brushed the hair from my face, taking in the appearance of my reddened lips. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Y-yes, sir,” I panted as fingers ghosted along my stomach and traced the edge of my panties.

“Let’s find out,” he whispered gruffly, letting his bearded cheek slide along mine until his lips were touching my ear. His fingers dipped into the lace garment, pushing his fingers between soaked folds.

“Joh—sir,” I nearly slipped, as my body reacted to the feeling of his fingers dipping into my entrance and retreating just as quickly. “What else can I do for you?”

“You can go lay nice and still on the bed while I clean up some of this,” he nodded toward the first aid kit and brought his fingers to his lips. He sucked them clean, watching the yearning on my face as my lips ached to be in place of his fingers. As soon as his fingers left his lips, I surged forward to kiss him but was stopped by a firm palm on my chest and a disapproving glance.

“Please.”

John removed his hand and met me part way, sliding his tongue along mine and allowing me to taste myself. I moaned against his lips, pushing myself into his grip on my hips as he tried to keep me at bay.

“Now,” he instructed against my swollen lips.

I complied, making my way over to the bed and laying down with my hands resting on my stomach. I watched him stand, the material of his dress shirt waving around his otherwise naked form as he moved around the room. I hadn’t even noticed my fingers moving below my underwear until he passed the bed from the bathroom and his eyes snapped to the movement. His passing face was expressionless as the white shirt billowed behind him. He snatched his pants off the floor, digging in the pocket, and then roughly whipping the belt from the loops. He brought the belt to his mouth, holding it between his teeth and shrugging the shirt off to reveal the wide expanse of his tattooed back. He fisted the leather belt in his hand, thinking for a moment before grabbing my belt from my pants as well; striding over to me with a renewed purpose.

“Since you can’t seem to follow simple instructions…” he sighed in annoyance, setting his switchblade on the nightstand. He grabbed one arm, bringing it toward the headboard and securing it with one belt. He moved to the other side, mimicking the same action until both of my arms were secured. He kneeled over me with his switchblade in his grasp. “How much do you like these?” he murmured, unleashing the blade away from me but close enough to my ear to make me shiver.

He ran the flat of the blade over my bra strap, pausing as the blade ran parallel to my clavicle. He slid the blade under my strap, laying it against my skin and pressing down for a second before swiftly bringing his arm up. The lightened part of my skin from the pressure of the blade recovered quickly; the blade leaving behind an indented line in my skin. The strap didn’t stand a chance against the sharp blade. I was beyond pissed but there was no way I’d fight him over it when I could simply buy more. He smirked at the fiery look in my eyes, leaning down until his chest was pressed against mine and his lips grazed my ear.

He grabbed a fistful of my hair, “Something wrong?”

I grinded my teeth slightly, “No, sir.”

“Didn’t think so,” he responded curtly.

He made quick work of cutting the other strap, then slicing down the center so the bra opened in front of him. He bit the soft skin of my breasts and sucked harsh bruises across my chest. My body arched into him as he purposely avoided my nipples as a punishment, continuing lower until his face met the last strip of clothing. He cut the sides and pushed the material away from my skin. The noise of the blade retreating into the handle cut through the air around us. He abandoned it, far enough from us that it wouldn’t be accidentally hit. He sat back on his heels, spreading my legs wider and grasping my thighs as he rammed himself inside me. He let out a low growl as he was surrounded by slick heat. My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, while he moved his body more firmly against mine. John leaned forward but stayed on his knees as his hips slammed against mine. One of his hands gripped my hip, enough to bruise later, while the other slid its way up to the junction of my neck and chest. I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arms around him and grip his shoulders so tightly that I left nail marks. My fists clenched at the thought, but I was soon brought out of it as his hand left my hip and rolled my clit between his fingers.

“ _John_ ,” I moaned, both of us too lost to care about the slip up.

The hand on my chest slipped along my slick skin with the force of his hips. He caught himself before he pushed too hard on my neck, letting his fingers wrap around my neck. I arched my neck into his hand, craving the pressure I knew he could create. He examined my pleading eyes, pressing his fingertips into the sides of my neck and watching my mouth drop and eyes shut.

“Look at me,” he growled, loosening his grip to get my attention.

I did as he asked, keeping my eyes fixed on him as he reapplied pressure. My heartbeat thumped under his fingertips as the blood in my arteries was slowly cut off from my brain. My face felt tight and my eyes unfocused as he pressed a little harder with every passing second. My body tensed under him and clamped around him as I came hard. His fingers released the blood flow as soon as he felt the tremors, the blood rushing back into my head as I cried out. In my haze, I clamped tightly around him, a strangled moan slipping from his mouth as his hips stuttered. He moved his arms to either side of my head at the last second as they gave out under his weight, his hips keeping his cock firmly inside me as he came. His face burned a trail across my cheek as he panted harshly against my skin. He pushed himself back up, bringing a shaky hand to one of my restrained wrists and undoing the belt, then moving to the other. I rubbed my wrists gently as he rolled off me, collapsing on his back.

My eyes were heavy and began to droop as I relaxed my head against the pillow, still recovering from the head rush combined with an orgasm. John’s fingers skimmed the top of my thigh, tickling across my hip. It forced my eyes open as goosebumps erupted across my skin, snapping me out of my fog ridden mind. I pushed myself up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed, and standing on wobbly legs. I knew better than to fall asleep next to the person I fucked regularly as part of our sick, but enjoyable game. Each time we finished, he immediately shut down and stayed silent until I left or he did. Of course, I knew better than to feel things for someone who felt nothing for anyone. Really, I did, but that didn’t mean I followed my rational thoughts.

“Where are you going?” I heard his tired voice from behind me as I pulled my suit back on.

I paused briefly as I heard his voice but snapped out of it and kept gathering my belongings, “To sleep, John, I kinda need it,” I answered with a flat tone.

I made my way to the door of the hotel room, stopping just short of it when John called my name. My heart hammered in my chest at the possibility of what he was going to say or ask. _Ask me, John, ask me to stay._

“Y/N,” he called again, causing me to turn around and meet his gaze.

“What?”

“Don’t forget your belt,” he replied, sticking his arm out with the leather folded in his hand.

My chest deflated, my teeth clenching together as I beat myself up for even thinking that he could feel any human emotion.

“Right,” I snapped, ripping the belt from his grasp and leaving without so much as a second thought.

The door slammed behind me as I beat myself up over my stupid feelings. _It’s an arrangement, you idiot. You wanted dick? You have it. You want feelings? Go look somewhere else. Remember that._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After your last contract with John and your stupid feelings manifesting, you decide that some space would be good between you two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, dudes, bear with me because this fic took control of the wheel, made a sharp left into soft-ville, and flipped me off along the way. Sorry, if I ruined a perfectly good fic with my thirst for soft!John. All the lyrics in this are by Avenged Sevenfold because that’s who I was listening to while writing this.

I was grateful that the contracts sent to me for the week following that night were open, and therefore optional. I holed myself up, willing these feelings to go away. I had fallen for him, God only knows how. Maybe it was the glimpse of the softer side of him I was privileged to see, on occasion, but never for more than a second. Maybe the way he sometimes broke his façade and laughed softly at my dumb jokes. Whatever the reason, it happened, and I couldn’t be angrier at myself. That week I distanced myself from him, shut my phone off, hung up on relayed messages given by Charon from John, refusing contracts, even so far as to bribe hotel employees to not divulge my room number.

Just when I was beginning to relax into the idea that the arrangement might not be all that bad, that maybe I was willing to have him in my life in any respect, I received a closed contract. I stared at the screen for far too long, wishing that the words would magically change. I glanced at the price, chewing the inside of my lip as I did. It was nowhere near the price of the ones John and I normally did together but fuck me if I still felt the overwhelming urge to invite him. God, how I wanted to invite him, if only to hear his voice.

No. I don’t need him, or his smirk, or his hands, or his…no.

I gritted my teeth, as if it would prevent me from calling him. I simply sighed and got ready to head out. The lobby wasn’t empty by any means, but I was relieved to not see his face as I left.

I was thankful for the easy target, meaning minimal energy and low risk of injury. The target had very little security, allowing me to finish the contract with only a couple minor scrapes that were mostly my fault. It was a nice change from the voluntary vacation I gave myself, nearly causing me to go stir crazy.

I made eye contact with Charon immediately as I entered the Continental, his eyes flashing to the side in a silent signal. I looked over, seeing John standing in the closest walkway to the elevators. My blood ran cold at the sight of his clenched jaw and stoic features, knowing immediately that he was angry. I straightened my back as I walked, pushing past him without a second glance. He followed me, I knew he would, but I wasn’t about to air out our business in the lobby. As soon as we rounded the corner where the elevators were, he backed me up against the wall and examined the scrape on my forehead.

“Where were you? I’ve been trying to call you for days,” he revealed in a hushed growl.

The truth is, I wouldn’t know if he’d tried to call my phone. I shut it off the second I got back to my room after our last contract, only keeping my work phone on.

“Clearly on a job. What are you? My babysitter?” I rested my head against the wall, crossing my arms defiantly. I had to push him away. I just couldn’t let this continue and do this to myself.

“You could have gotten hurt,” John murmured, rubbing his thumb just shy of the scrape on my head.

I flinched away from his touch, shoving his arm away from me by the forearm, “And? That’s part of the job.” I laughed spitefully, “What do you think happened before we started this mess? I got hurt a lot.”

His jaw clenched and clenched repeatedly, his fingers circling around my wrist over my chest, “Still, I could hav—”

“Done what? Protected me? Why do you _care_ so much?” I spat. I was getting tired of this conversation and the insinuations that I needed his help for the most mundane jobs. I took the opportunity to slap the elevator button next to me.

John was silent, as I expected him to be. He didn’t care, that’s what the funny part was. All this fussing because our little game could have been in jeopardy, his fantasies interrupted, and his guaranteed fucks cut off for good.

“That’s what I thought,” I wrenched myself away from his grasp, my chest aching with emotion as I turned my body away from him and slid into the elevator.

The elevator doors began to slide shut but opened once again when a hand slid in between them, trusting that the door would do its job and open again. They did, and not surprisingly, John was on the other side of them. I reached out, smashing the buttons for random floors before he could get a glimpse of what I had chosen originally. He strode in, attempting to back me against the wall once more but I stayed firmly in place this time.

“I care about you,” he whispered, flicking his eyes away from my face as he spoke.

I couldn’t help but feel unaffected by his words as he couldn’t even look me in the eyes. I felt scornful laughter bubble up in my throat, begging to be released. So, I did. I laughed, hard, “John, you don’t even know what that word means.”

I couldn’t see the hurt in his eyes, even if I wanted to. He was hardly readable unless he was angry. The elevator ride dragged on as I avoided looking at him, which was hard as he was literally pressed against me. I knew if I dared to look in his eyes, I’d either be a fool and believe him or breakdown all together and risk crying. John’s hand snuck around my waist, increasing the pressure between our hips while he dropped his lips to my ear. I couldn’t even begin to express how much I wanted him to continue.

“Stop,” my brain betrayed me, ordering him firmly with a hint of a crack in my voice.

His movements froze perfectly, as if I was his remote control. The elevator dinged, prompting me to slip out of his grasp.

“Good night, John,” I sighed, walking past him and out of the elevator.

I groaned in frustration the second the door of the room shut behind me. I had to climb a few extra flights of stairs just to make sure I wasn’t followed. I was careful taking my weapons off but ripped at my clothing in frustration. Who was I kidding? I couldn’t tear ballistic lining. I took a deep breath, shrugging my clothes off and throwing them in a pile. I stood under the hot spray of the shower head for far too long, my skin eventually going numb to the water.

I wrapped myself in a towel as I exited the bathroom, sending a passing glare to one of John’s undershirts that he’d mistakenly left with me weeks ago. I’d been avoiding it like the plague, knowing it probably still smelled like him, and I wasn’t about to torture myself like that. Fuck, did I miss his scent, though. I mentally kicked myself as I dropped my towel and slid the soft shirt over my skin. The scent made me dizzy and all I wanted to do was lay down and wallow for the next month.

I grabbed my personal phone, dreading turning it on, but I wanted to listen to music. I turned it on, grabbing my wireless headphones while the phone powered on. I immediately unlocked it and clicked the music app, the phone stuttering as the app fought for processing power with the slew of missed messages and other startup processes.

_“Hey, I have a contract.”_

_“Guess, you'll miss out then.”_

I clicked on a heavy metal band, craving the harsh music and screaming vocals.

_“Can I see you?”_

_“Are you okay?”_

I snapped the headphones over my head, frustrated when I didn’t immediately hear music.

_“Y/N, it's been days. Are you okay?”_

_“Are you hurt?”_

_“I'm not fucking around. Are you hurt?”_

I fiddled with the controls, soon giving up and throwing them against the wall with an audible “crack”.

_“Did you seriously bribe Charon?”_

I grabbed my wired headphones, plugged them in, and laid down.

“ _We all need that person who can be true to you_

_I left her when I found her_

_And now I wish I'd stayed_

_'Cause I'm lonely and I'm tired_

_I'm missing you again oh no”_

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I rolled my eyes, skipping the song.

_“Seize the day or die regretting the time you lost_

_It's empty and cold without you here, too many people to ache over”_

Skip.

Finally, a wailing electric guitar sounded with heavy drums. Harsh vocals graced my ears, allowing me to settle my head back into my pillow as I closed my eyes. I tapped to the beat with my fingers on my stomach, fighting the urge to belt out the lyrics.

_“I'm not insane, I'm not insane_

_I'm not insane, I'm not, not insane_

_Come back to me, it's almost easy”_

My eyes shot open, my face contorting into a scowl.

Skip.

A piano started out for the next song, causing me to rip my headphones from my ears and throw my phone across the room.

“I asked for metal, not to shuffle all the fucking ballads!” I seethed at my empty room.

I grabbed the pillow next to me, throwing it over my face and pressing down while letting out frustrated growls. The lack of air only made it worse, my brain immediately imagining the way John’s hands fit around my neck. The way his hands knew just how to cut off the blood supply, making me dizzy until…

I threw the pillow down to my side, my chest heaving wildly. I rubbed my hand over my face, pressing my fingers into my forehead in an attempt to calm myself.

 

Meanwhile, John was stalking grumpily back to the front desk.

“Is Winston in?” he asked Charon curtly.

“The manager is in the lounge,” Charon replied in his typical voice, not letting John's tone affect him.

“Daisy,” John called, an eager, full-grown beagle running out from behind the desk to greet him. He gave her a brief rub, before having her follow him to the lounge.

He immediately took a seat in the booth across from Winston, Daisy sitting obediently on the floor next to him.

“What room is she in, Winston?” John asked, taking a lighter tone with the older man.

“I’m afraid I’m sworn to secrecy, Jonathan.”

If looks could kill, Winston would be buried five times over, “Why is she acting like a child, like this is a fucking game?” he growled.

“Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it? A game?” Winston raised his eyebrows.

John stewed in silence, accepting a glass that Winston slid over to him cautiously.

“You feel something for her, don’t you?” Winston chuckled.

“Winston…” John warned.

Winston grew serious, “If you want her, go after her.” He paused, thinking over his words for a moment, “You know what needs to be said, Jonathan, but can you say it? She may hide behind humor, but she has feelings just like anyone else. Even you.”

John downed the glass in one gulp, standing and leaving the table. Daisy followed him to the elevators without a care. He ushered Daisy into the elevator, clicking the button for the floor I’d gotten out on earlier. He knelt in front of her, pulling out a piece of fabric and letting her sniff it thoroughly to separate John’s scent from mine.

“Seek,” John commanded as the doors slid open.

It took a while, but three floors and a couple false alarms later, Daisy plopped down in front of room 536. She looked up expectantly at John, receiving a head scratch for her efforts.

“You sure?” he asked Daisy, who simply stared at him.

John’s hand hovered over the door, fist curled tightly and ready to knock. He stopped before his fingers could meet the door, uncurling his hand and letting his fingertips touch the door with a sigh. _What would he even say? I’m sorry, I have trouble expressing myself?_ He shook his head, letting his hand slide down the door and fall. His tongue travelled over his lips before he stalked away. If all else failed, he at least knew the room number.

 

I woke up extremely late the next day, having not been able to fall asleep for a while last night. In my sleepy haze, John’s scent filled my nose, making me smile and reach out for him. My hand met cold sheets, causing my eyes to fly open in shock. I looked down at the offending shirt, letting my head fall back against the pillow. I threw my covers off, grabbing my, thankfully intact, phone. I plugged it in to charge, scrolling mindlessly for some time until I saw a notification drop down.

_“Meet me at the bar,”_ John typed. I clicked it, my first mistake, since he would see that I’d read the message.

_“No.”_

_“It wasn’t a question. Meet me at the bar, now,”_ he responded, making me let out a defiant huff, _“Please.”_

That was all it took for me to break. My walls all washing away with one word rarely uttered by him. I heaved myself up, throwing on my suit from last night. It was still the Continental after all, I couldn’t go around wearing whatever. I fixed my hair to the best of my abilities, under such short notice.

The walk to the bar was nerve wracking, my palms sweating as I wondered what he was going to say. He was probably going to end it because I’ve been a child the past week. The drama probably pissed him off. I wouldn’t blame him, it _was_ my goal after all. That didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt coming from him, though.

I spotted him easily, no one daring to sit next to him as per usual. I slid in to the seat next to him, accepting the glass he slid over to me, “You have until I finish this,” I murmured, lifting the glass to my lips. He glared at me, telling me he was serious, “So, was this your last resort? Get me drunk so I’ll fuck you, or what?”

He actually looked offended at my words and I immediately wished I could take them back.

“Honestly? My last resort was going to be kicking your door in and tying you up until you told me what’s crawled up your ass,” he murmured, his voice husky from the alcohol.

“You don’t know my room number.”

“Five thirty-six,” he said proudly, tilting his head smugly.

“Who told you?” I grumbled.

“Beagles are great trackers,” he shrugged, glancing down at Daisy, who I hadn’t noticed until now.

“You used Daisy against me?” I refused to let a smile spread over my face. “Traitor,” I glared at the dog before petting her gently.

I rested my arms back on the bar, letting silence fall between us. His hand curled around mine, sending my heart rate into overdrive. I couldn’t give in. I retracted my hand from his, grabbing my glass and taking a long sip.

“What are we doing, John?”

“We’re having a drink,” he stated the obvious, closing his hand and bringing it back toward his body after the rejection.

“You’re unbelievable,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes and downing the last of the glass. I pushed my chair back, so I could stand, but was stopped with his hand taking mine before I could pull it off the bar top.

“Please stay,” his gravelly voice was full of emotion for once.

My heartstrings tugged at his words, the words I’d wanted to hear last week, and I immediately sat back down. He was silent, but I could almost hear his mind working, so I stepped in. The alcohol was already loosening my tongue, making what I was about to say a little easier.

“Look,” I sighed, “I know this was supposed to be all fun and games. I know it was just sex or stress relief, or whatever for you.” I flailed my hands as I nearly lost track of my words, but recomposed myself, “I—It turned into something more for me. I—,” my voice wavered as he finally turned his head to lock eyes with me. “I fell in love with you.” His mouth moved like he was going to say something, but I held my hand up to stop him, “This was supposed to be me ending the arrangement or forcing you to end it, so it wouldn’t hurt me as much later. I’m sorry for not dealing with it better.”

I took a shaky breath, willing myself to breathe normally after the confession. His hand came up to my face, brushing his thumb across my cheek. My eyes stung with tears at the gesture, but I held back as much as I could and turned my head away. My head immediately snapped back in his direction as I heard his voice speak in my direction.

“You managed to do something only one other person has done before,” he smiled sadly as he remembered his late wife. “You pulled me out of the darkness that I’d been holding onto since she died and I didn’t know how to function without it,” John murmured. “I didn’t want to fall for you.”

I nodded, pulling my face away from his hand as I felt a tear escape my eyelids. I clenched my fists, stood, and swallowed the lump in my throat, “I’m really sorry for all this.”

“Y/N,” he called my name softly, his heart breaking with the presence of tears, “I didn’t want to fall for you, but I did. I need you.” His fingers curled around my fist, “Fuck, I love you and I wanted you stay that night, I really did. If you’ll let me, I won’t let you leave again.”

I uncurled my fist, letting my fingers latch onto his. I gave him a gentle tug, telling him to come with me. The three of us entered the elevator, John’s hand never leaving mine the entire trip. My room was closer than his, so I pressed the button for my floor and led him to the room.

Once inside, I lost all train of thought but felt him bring be back to earth as he led me toward the bed. His hands snuck under my jacket, pushing it from my shoulders and letting it land on the floor. He shrugged his own jacket off and pulled his tie loose, letting both items drop unceremoniously. He toed his shoes off, mine soon joining his in the pile. I watched intently as he unbuckled that damn belt and slid it from his belt loops. He held it for a moment, gripping the leather so tightly it creaked before discarding it on the floor, as if it meant nothing. His arms wrapped around my waist, his forehead dropping until it met mine.

John's lips spread into a gorgeous smile, bringing one to my face by default. He sat on the edge of the bed, taking me with him so I was standing between his legs. I held his face in my hands, pressing a loving kiss to his chapped lips.

When I opened my eyes, John was clutching his used undershirt in his fist, a grin spread wide on his face, “What’s this?”

“You know what it is, doofus,” I rolled my eyes.

He brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply and chuckling, “You wore it to bed.”

I squinted my eyes at him, ripping the shirt from his hand and tossing it behind me. He let himself fall back against the bed, adjusting himself until his feet were no longer off the edge. He opened his arms to me, my body gravitating into his arms and fitting snugly against his side. I draped my leg over his and buried my face into his shoulder in an attempt to get comfortable with these garments still on. A lovesick smile took over my face as I felt his lips press against my forehead. The bed shook slightly as Daisy jumped onto the mattress and curled into his other side. His fingers sifted through my hair, lulling me to sleep as the emotional weariness got the better of me.

For once, since the arrangement, I didn’t have to worry about falling asleep next to him or fear over staying my welcome. I was staying, and so was he.


End file.
